


Contract

by FrivolousSuits



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Discussion of BDSM, F/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Episode: s07e12 Bad Man, lonna is fully consensual, no explicit content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 07:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14232735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrivolousSuits/pseuds/FrivolousSuits
Summary: After that night with Sheila and the mud, the nightmares come more frequently.





	Contract

The mudmares come more frequently now.

His subconscious has plenty of other awkward moments to replay, plenty of other humiliations. He suspects Dr. Lipschitz has an entire catalogue by now. Hell, the moment when Louis and Sheila finally broke things off forever must be one of the saddest plot twists in his whole tragic life.

Still, it’s that one night in the mud that haunts his dreams, forcing him awake, squeezing his chest, leaving him feeling lower than the dirt where it was set.

(Mud was a clean, pure, safe space. He hates it now.)

* * *

It hit him hard, there’s no doubt about it. He reasons that he must be in love with Sheila, his body clearly enjoyed ~~what she did~~ what they did, his mind couldn’t stop replaying it all for hours after it was over. Over and over in the Law School closet she moaned and murmured about how delightfully responsive he was that night, and it has to be because he’s a bad boy, because he’s addicted to her, because otherwise –

Sheila wouldn’t have done that otherwise. She’s changed since he met her, she’s stopped caring about the rules that she used to love, but still there are some lines a decent person would never cross.

He must be truly in love with her.

* * *

He finds himself drawn to the rooftop. That’s where people go when the world’s too much, and the world is always too much now.

“You know, Louis,” Donna says, approaching him so silently she startles him, “I’m not entirely comfortable leaving you up here all the time.”

She’s said this to him before, but the laughter’s gone from the words, and he can’t go and assure her that he’d never think of jumping.

“I assume Sheila’s on your mind.”

“When is she not?”

She steps up beside him, even as he keeps his eyes firmly trained across the street. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

No, he doesn’t want to tell her, he doesn’t want to tell anyone, and he tells her as much.

“I won’t judge.”

He glances at her, and she looks genuinely concerned. So he mutters, “I was so caught up in being a ‘bad boy’ I did everything wrong.”

“You’re feeling guilty.”

“Yeah, but that’s not all of it.” He falls silent, but her eyes are wide, encouraging. “I feel used.”

“Did she keep anything from you?”

“No. Yes. No.”

Donna tilts her head. “Did she manipulate you at all?”

No. He ought to say no, but the word sticks in his throat.

“Not really. I knew what was happening.”

“But?”

Now he wants to talk, and he can’t tell whether to curse or bless Donna for that. “But she came in one time, when I was mudding?” He hates how tentative he sounds, but his heart’s pounding and he can barely eke the words out. “And she put her hand below . . . below the mud.”

It takes her only a second to fill in the gap. “Did you like it?”

“I– I enjoyed it,” he stammers. “I mean, I’m only human, and she knows exactly how to handle me–”

“Sorry,” she interrupts, “wrong question. Did you _want_ it?”

“Yes,” he says, but even he doesn’t buy it. He sighs. “I tried to argue her out of it when it was happening, but I didn’t stop her. I could have pushed her away, and I just . . . didn’t.” She starts to speak, but he cuts her off, babbling, “It could have been worse, right? We’ve done a lot more than that.”

“People can’t always make assumptions based on past history,” Donna murmurs. “I did that with Harvey, and if we had anything less than 14 years of history he would have fired me for the kiss.”

“Look, that was a different situation,” Louis insists, his words spilling out of control. “Harvey’s got history that complicated that, but me? I’ve handled worse.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean in high school, I didn’t want to lose my virginity to Sally at senior prom, but I did, and I turned out perfectly fine!” he exclaims with a slightly manic laugh. When he sees Donna’s frowning at him, he spits, “What?”

Her silvertongue seems to have deserted her. After a couple false starts, she says, “Have you talked to anyone about Sally?”

“No,” he says on instinct. “Well, yes, I did, I told Harvey once. Told him a crime was committed upon me.”

“And?”

“And he thought it was very amusing.”

Donna inhales sharply and shakes her head. “You and Sheila, you were in a BDSM relationship, right?”

“How did you know?”

She raises an eyebrow. Of course, she knows all, and for once she doesn’t seem glad about it. “Did you try to safeword out?”

“We didn’t have a safeword.”

“What.”

“She asked me if I had one, I told her safewords were for pussies.”

“Do your doms usually let that go?”

“My– what?” He blinks. “I don’t have other doms. I’d never done anything until Sheila.”

God, she’s staring at him like he’s grown two extra nipples, with a strange mix of disgust and pity. “How much of your relationship was based on BDSM?”

“Excuse me?”

“If she wasn’t your only source of kinky sex, then would you have wanted her this long?” He starts to splutter, but she holds up a hand. “And I’m not knocking kinky sex. It’s an honest question.”

He wants to tell her he loved Sheila’s mind too, her attention to detail, her love of rules and convictions and order, but all that’s changed. She’s not the same woman anymore, and even back then they had decided that their life goals didn’t really fit.

It’s all about lust with them.

“No.”

Donna nods slowly. “First of all, I want to thank you for telling me all this, and I want you to know I don’t think any worse of you, far from it. Second of all, I have to go draw up some paperwork.”

“I can have one of the associates do that–”

“No,” she says with a sudden, sad chuckle, “I think I should do this one myself.”

* * *

 

He returns to his office and tries to focus on his work, yet he can’t put the conversation out of his mind. He misses Sheila.

Or maybe he just misses the sex.

Or maybe, he realizes, he misses the power dynamic, the chance to cede power and control to someone he trusts, someone who cares about him, someone who won’t stab him in the back. That’s not a luxury he often gets in the eternal gladiator games of corporate law.

He misses the comfort of lying on a featherbed, safe in the dark of a blindfold with his Domme beside him, able to simply breathe.

Donna knocks at the door, soft enough that she doesn’t spook him. “Can I show you something?”

She holds up a single sheet of paper, covered front and back in thick black lettering, and he frowns as she comes to hand it to him. “That’s not the contract, is it? You might’ve missed some terms–”

Then he reads the first line: _“Donna Paulsen, hereinafter referred to as “the dominant”, hereby binds this contract with her signature and the signature of Louis Litt, hereinafter referred to as “the submissive” . . .”_

He slaps it down on the table. “Excuse me?”

“Louis,” she says, and there’s a thrill in falling silent just as soon as she wants him to. “It’s an offer. You are under no obligation to look at it any further, you can throw it in the trash, and I will never hold it against you.”

On instinct he closes his fingers around it even more tightly.

“If you are interested,” she continues, “I would want you to take time to do research, define your boundaries, come up with a counteroffer. There would have to be a safeword, that’s a dealbreaker for me, but I’m willing to negotiate on just about everything else.”

“I . . .” He looks down at the contract, the terms and conditions already spelled out, almost exactly the way he would want, as if she really does know him better than he knows himself. “You’d do this for me?”

“I would.”

He lets out a short huff. “I don’t want your pity–”

She crooks one well-defined eyebrow. “Louis, you have my word I would _never_ offer anyone this if I only felt pity.”

 _This._ He scans the contract again and realizes she hasn’t made any mention of sex, and he opens his mouth to ask why –

“I didn’t know if you wanted that,” she says quietly.

His eyes widen, and he starts to say that _of course_ he’d want that, but something stops him. “Would you want it?”

“Not until we really got to know each other this way. Even then, I’d want sex if and only if you did.”

Louis stares up at Donna in wonder. “Why are you offering this?”

She leans in close and murmurs, “Because bad boys need to be punished.” He snorts, and she outright laughs at the line. “Because I think it could work.”

“You and me?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “That said, if you want someone else I know plenty of other options. Even some people you know too.”

That startles a laugh out of him, his first real laugh in longer than he can remember. “I’m sorry, I just envisioned Harvey in leather.”

“That’d be a hell of a sight,” she says, eyes sparkling.

“But really,” he says, sobering again, “why us? Why now?”

“Because I’m like you,” she says almost in a whisper.

“How?”

“I’m done pining over a fairy tale that won’t happen–” her voice is flint, and for an awful moment Louis wonders if he’s just a stand-in for another man until it melts again– “when we have a real-life story that could.”

In an instant he feels safe again.


End file.
